


Make Me.

by panicattackkisses



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst?, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 15:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3575228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panicattackkisses/pseuds/panicattackkisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the third prompt I’ve finished from the list. It’s number one and entitled ”Come over here and make me”. A few anons requested this and I hope I fulfilled it to your liking! This was written and posted from my phone so I do apologise for any errors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Me.

Stiles was beyond furious.

Lydia was flushed with rage.

The boy stood by his chest of drawers, his whole body tense as he leant back against the unit.  His chestnut hair was a complete mess, the strands standing on end as he continuously grabbed at them in frustration.  Stiles’ eyes narrowed at the figure who was not so subtly inching towards the door.

“Lydia, _I swear to everything that is holy_ , you touch that door’’, he pointed at her accusingly, “And I will have you over my shoulder before you know it’s happening’’.

Lydia scoffed and rolled her eyes at his words, only angering the boy further.  But, as her eyes met his own glaring pair, she considered the possibility that he might be serious.   
Stiles was unwavering under her intense gaze and he actually took a step towards her as her hand met with the door handle.

“Lydia’’.

His voice was a deep warning, a rumble in his chest that rivalled the thunder and wind that shook the trees outside his window.  The girl sighed pettily, her bottom lip crushed between her teeth in order to keep herself from cursing out loud.  She did not want to fight with Stiles.  
 Instead, she let go of the door and dropped her petite frame onto his unmade bed, her fingers toying with a loose thread on his comforter.  Her hazel eyes had turned to a deep emerald and she Lydia glared at the friend from underneath her long lashes.   
But amazingly, Stiles thought, she stayed sitting.

“Thank you…’’ Stiles sighed tiredly.

  
Lydia ignored him, turning her body to face the window instead.  Her jacket was still over her shoulders, her shoes on her feet and her long auburn curls crammed into a messy bun. She was prepared, she was ready.   
A flash of white streaked across the purple skies and a roll of crashing thunder soon followed. The girl flinched, her thoughts on her friends outside, deep in the forest and fighting God knows what.   
More frustration flew through her body, it jolted her like a current and it made her bones itch.  She stood, pacing the floor of Stiles’ bedroom until she found herself leaning into the panes of the window, her forehead touching the cool glass.  A strangled noise broke free from her throat.

Like a war cry, an alarm, an air raid siren - the noise struck something primal inside her and she knew it meant danger.  She meant danger, Lydia was aware that death surrounded her, she aided it like some twisted angel of darkness.  Her hands flew to her throat, her lips clamped together as she chanted in a whisper.   
“No, no, no, no, no - please no…’’

“Lydia! **Lydia** , look at me!’’

Stiles rushed to her side as he practically vaulted over his bed, his pillows falling to the floor unnoticed. His hands found her body in the darkening room and he was more aware than ever of the slowly dying light outside as he stood before the window.   
Trees were almost horizontal in the harsh winds and the sky flashed and cracked before his eyes. His stomach churned helplessly at the thought of his friends out there, his pack.

The girl beside him jerked under his touch as another weak whimper escaped from her lips and she hummed tunelessly to block it out, to try and make any other noise - to try and not scream. It was one of her coping techniques that Deaton had taught her, but tonight, it wasn’t doing the banshee any good.   
Her whimpers were mixed with random, inhuman sounds as tears choked her throat.

Stiles large hands curled around her small waist and he pulled her close to him, her head tucked neatly underneath his chin as he held her, rocking her slowly.  
He brought a hand up to cradle the nape of her neck as he whispered to her; making soothing noises close to her ear; in the hopes that he would drown out the other sounds she was creating.

Eventually, Lydia became quiet, but she clung to the boy desperately as the lights around them flickered due to the storm - or Kira. From the dark patch of forest in the distance, the pair heard a howl.  The long, drawn out, haunting wail of a wolf.

Lydia pulled herself from Stiles’ arms, her palms pressed against the window as she peered out into the darkness, willing herself to see something, to see anything.  
“Was that Isaac?’’

Stiles was pressed into her body from behind, his nose against the cold glass as he copied her pose. His brow was furrowed and his lips were drawn into a tight line.  
“I don’t know, it sounded like Scott to me…’’ He trailed off, unsure.

With a sudden energy that Stiles nor herself knew she had, Lydia wriggled out from between the boy and the window.  She grabbed the lapels of her coat, drawing it tight around her before she marched to the door with more determination than she had before.

“Lydia!’’ Stiles voice was a harsh bark in the otherwise quiet room but Lydia ignored him and grabbed the door handle once again.  
“Jesus, honestly, I’m going to get a lock for that fucking door if you don’t - ‘’.

She rounded on him like a strawberry blonde hurricane.  She was a goddamn force of nature and Stiles stopped short in front of her, the hand that was reaching out to her was quickly retracted.  
The girl practically growled up at him.

“If I don’t what, Stiles?’’ She demanded to know, “If I don’t sit down on my ass and do nothing? If I don’t follow Scott’s orders cause he thinks I’m useless and-’’

“ _HEY_!’’ Stiles’ voice rose in volume as did his anger.  He glared at the girl, his hands coming up to rake through his hair furiously.  He paced his room a few times, his steps quick and long before he turned back to his friend with wildfire in his eyes.

“You are not useless, okay!’’ His words were not a question, but a statement, “You’re here, out of harms way, because you don’t have claws and teeth or a bow and arrow, okay, Lydia?’’ Stiles breathed heavily through his nose as he gazed down at the girl.

“You’re not useless, you’re a goddamn banshee, you predict fucking death and the last place you need to be is in the middle of supernatural battle during a hurricane! ‘Cause guess what Lydia?’’

Lydia stayed quiet, her lips pursed together to stop the tears of frustration falling from her eyes. She didn’t answer Stiles, but she still listened.

“Who’s going to scream for _you_ when you get hurt?’’ Stiles tripped up over his own words, his throat tightening around the thought of Lydia coming to any harm, “What other banshee is going to scream to let us know you’ve been killed, huh?’’ The last word tore from his lips weakly, his voice hoarse and cracking.

Lydia let the tears fall and the streaked down her porcelain cheeks faster than the rain against the window.  Her hands reached down to the hem of her shirt and she fiddled with the seam, her heart thundering underneath her clothes.

  
Again, she didn’t answer him.  Stiles took a step towards her and he towered over her small frame.  They didn’t touch, but Lydia could feel Stiles’ harsh breaths fall upon her head, shifting her stray curls.   
“Does that mean you think **I’m** useless?’’ The boy sounded broken.

Something inside Lydia crumbled and her head snapped up to meet Stiles’ burning stare.   
“No! Of course I don’t Stiles! That’s not what I meant-’’

They had had this conversation plenty of times,  Lydia reassuring Stiles in soft, hushed tones as she curled herself around his body under the soothing darkness of his duvet.  Then, on other occasions, where she had wiped the blood away from his cracked knuckles after he had lashed out at walls in complete frustration.   
Stiles was not useless, Lydia had told him so, many, many times.

So when she had quickly spun into action to tell him so again, Stiles cut her off. He didn’t need or want to hear her say it again - that wasn’t what their conversation was about.   
“You’re not useless either Lydia.  You’re here - with me - because Scott, Allison and everyone else, wants you to be safe’’.

“I need you to be safe’’, Stiles continued in a gentle, hoarse murmur, his gaze dropping to his feet.  “Don’t throw yourself into unnecessary danger, not again, okay? We’ve both learnt that lesson the hard way’’.

Lydia’s eyes dropped to his side, her watery eyes knowing what was hiding underneath his shirt.  The nine inch long scar that wrapped around his ribcage was proof of what Stiles would do for her, to keep her away from danger.

Lydia’s voice was weak when she finally spoke, “Stiles, I know Scott asked me to stay away tonight but I can’t stop thinking abou-’’  
Stiles lifted his head and brought his hands up to cradle Lydia’s face so quickly that she gasped at the sudden touch.

“Then don’t listen to Scott - listen to me. I’m not going to order you to not go, Lydia’’.  Stiles’ chocolate eyes were warm and as desperate as his words as they searched her own.  She frowned in confusion at what he had said to her.

“I’m not going to barricade the door and lock the window, okay? I’m just going to ask you to stay. Please,’’ his thumb brushed the edge of her full bottom lip and Lydia took a sharp intake of breath.

“Please, Lydia, stay with me’’.  And with those last words, his hands dropped from her face and he took several steps back until his legs hit the mattress.  With his eyes still staring into her own, he sat down.   
Lydia missed his touch instantly, the warmth from his hands on her face gone and replaced with cold air and a sense of finality.

The room was silent except for the sounds of thunder and wind outside, the rain battering against the window in a constant drone.  Finally, Lydia took a step away from the door and stood in the middle of the room, her eyes wide and her lips wet with each nervous nibble she gave them.

  
“Make me’’, she murmured, “Come over here and make me’’.

Stiles head slowly rose from it’s place in his hands.  His hair was rumpled and his lips were parted at seeing her standing there.  Hope fluttered against his ribcage and confusion became apparent in his features.

“What? Make you what? Lydia, I told you, I wasn’t ordering you-’’

“No Stiles, come over here and make me stay’’, Lydia took a gulp of air and looked around the boy’s room nervously.  Finally, in the darkness, her eyes found his once more - and this time - she found a spark of something different in them’’.

Stiles rose slowly to his feet.

“Give me something to stay for.  Make me forget what’s outside and make me stop the goddamn _scream_ I keep thinking I can feel in my throat’’, her hands flew to her neck as if to claw the sensation out, her eyes wide and full of threatening tears.

Stiles walked towards Lydia, his steps careful and hesitant.  When he reached her, he gently took each of her hands in his own and captured them, bringing them safely between their bodies.  His actions were soft but his eyes had deepened to a molton brown and they practically glowed in the dimming light.

“Please Stiles. Come over here and make me-’’.

With a low groan, Stiles grabbed Lydia’s body and brought it to his.  Their chests met the moment their lips crashed together.  Lydia’s hands broke free from between their bodies and they flew to the boy’s hair.  She ran her fingers through the messy strands and she shivered when he sighed in delight.

The sensations she created on his body drove Stiles mad and when her fingernails scratched lightly over the back of his neck, Stiles moaned into her parted lips.  Emboldened, his tongue licked gently at her lips, asking permission.  Lydia didn’t hesitate and when their tongues met, she stumbled at the touch, her feet tripping over a haphazard textbook on the floor.

Catching her, Stiles brought Lydia back to him, closer than before.  They swayed on the spot as their kiss deepened and it was as if Stiles mind was on autopilot - he wasn’t aware of their bodies moving until Lydia’s back hit his chest of drawers.   
The objects on top rattled in objection.  Stiles pulled back just enough to see her swollen, red lips and wide eyes.  Pressing a slow, deep kiss to her lips, the boy watched her eyes flutter closed and he took that opportunity to hook his arms underneath her knees, and sit her on top of the unit.

Lydia gasped as Stiles swiftly picked her up and moved between her legs, his rough palms falling to her bare legs, skimming the skin underneath her skirt.   
She moaned louder than before and Stiles grunted at the sound, nipping and kissing at her neck as the girls head fell back in pleasure.

They kissed until their lips were swollen and marks were made on each others skin.  They ground against each others bodies until a frustrated Lydia pulled at Stiles’ shirt.  When their bare chests met, time slowed down and kisses did too.  Touches turned softer and hands departed on adventurous journeys across undiscovered skin.

With a crash of thunder, the night sped up and Lydia hit the bed with a gasp, pulling desperately at Stiles until his lean body crawled on top of her, kissing and licking at every inch of bare skin he came across until he met her lips with his own.

They were frantic and desperate and in complete awe of each other. Together, they fell apart and kept the other sane.  And it was only when the rain had stopped and the clouds turned to stars that Stiles received the text from Scott, telling him everything was okay - everyone was safe. Everyone was alive.

It was then, and only then, that Stiles and Lydia slept.


End file.
